


For Now

by Sorin



Series: A Song of Two Worlds [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Feels, M/M, Male Miqo'te (Final Fantasy XIV), NSFW, Specific Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), lots of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 20:23:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20494787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorin/pseuds/Sorin
Summary: It was deep in the night when Yhen’a woke, a gentle weight settling on his cot and dragging him back to consciousness.  He rolled over a little and blinked, bleary and confused, wondering what was going on- if, perhaps, he was needed despite the Cloud of Darkness having been defeated.  Ever ready for action, Yhen’a blinked again, coming awake all at once- but a gentle hand on his head calmed him as much as it confused him.





	For Now

**Author's Note:**

> I like to hurt myself, apparently.
> 
> There's no graphic descriptions of what's going on here, but I'm pretty sure y'all can fill in the gaps. :D I'm fixing to write a chaptered work that I'll put in this collection of Yhen'a and his journey on the First, and that'll have the more detailed stuff in it. ;D

It was deep in the night when Yhen’a woke, a gentle weight settling on his cot and dragging him back to consciousness. He rolled over a little and blinked, bleary and confused, wondering what was going on- if, perhaps, he was needed despite the Cloud of Darkness having been defeated. Ever ready for action, Yhen’a blinked again, coming awake all at once- but a gentle hand on his head calmed him as much as it confused him.

“Yhen’a.” G’raha’s voice was quiet in the darkness, a beacon that lit his path, and the Keeper turned silver eyes to him.

“G’raha-?” Yhen’a cleared his throat, his voice rough not only from sleep but from all the yelling he’d been done as he and the others had crashed through the Void. “Wh-?”

Two fingers settling gently over his lips silenced him, and then they trailed slowly to his jaw. “Just Raha,” the Seeker murmured, and all at once Yhen’a understood what was going on. G’raha’s hair was loose from its usual braid, and he wore the soft shirt and trousers he slept in- but it seemed he’d not managed to fall asleep, whereas Yhen’a himself had been out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Those fingers trailed back up to trace over his mouth, and his own full lips curved slightly as Yhen’a tipped his head a bit into his touch. He moved his hand away and leaned over him, and for a few seconds their breath mingled in the scant space between them. Ruby-red eyes gazed at him, bright and alert, and Yhen’a smiled sleepily once more and drew him down to close the distance.

"... Raha." It sounded nice, felt good on his lips, and Yhen'a's smile widened.

It came as somewhat of a surprise to learn that G’raha knew what he was doing; the whisper of skin against skin, soft sighs and murmurs of pleasure- none of these could truly be found in a book, not even the most detailed. Yhen’a was glad to simply take his time and kiss him, he was so good at it- ah, but he felt positively _weak,_ and it wasn’t at all due to his earlier exhaustion. Tunics and trousers fell away beneath skilled hands, kisses and caresses mapped out planes and valleys and scars all the same. He could have written a whole series of songs about G’raha, he thought absently, but no… he would guard this, and _jealously._

It was well, he thought, to have certain things all to himself.

Some time later, when the blankets were pushed back impatiently and kisses that had started somewhat innocent had become demanding, when there was a delicious ache between them that longed for its inevitable ending, Yhen’a reached for his jar of healing salve- and then paused, peering up at the Seeker. G’raha was certainly skilled, yes, though _some_ of that could be attributed to having a similar body as his own. “You’ve had a man before?” he asked, and the incredulous look G’raha gave him in return made him grin.

“And risk impregnating a woman as a Tia, even far from home? Thank you, no- I can hear my father shouting at me already.” G’raha leaned down and kissed him fiercely, nipped at his lips and reached up to caress one of his ears, earning himself a gasp of pleasure.

“There are ways to prevent that, you know,” Yhen’a said teasingly. He sat up and pulled G’raha into his lap, draping his arms around his shoulders and nudging their noses together. “Ahh, don’t give me that look! … even though it’s cute.”

“You are insufferable,” G’raha muttered, leaning forward and nibbling gently at his throat- and then biting hard at the juncture of neck and shoulder, making him cry out in surprise. G’raha soothed the bite with his tongue, then shoved him down onto his back and moved lower still, looking at him from beneath veiled lashes. Sun-kissed as he was, in the darkness of the tent he fairly glowed- a stark difference from Yhen’a, dark as night, and one he _would_ write about- abstractly, of course. “Stay still, then… if you can.”

Yhen’a was about to retort when that clever mouth trailed a path up his inner thigh, then all he could do was grip the blankets and stare blankly at the ceiling of the tent. _Stay still indeed,_ he thought absently.

In the end, he did manage… _barely._

They had entirely dislodged the bedding from the cot by the time all was said and done. Yhen’a didn’t care- he was still coming down from his high a full ten minutes later, enjoying G’raha’s weight half on top of him as the Seeker did the same. Outside the sun had begun to rise, which told him that they’d either _truly_ taken their sweet time or it had been much later than he’d presumed when G’raha had woken him. He trailed his fingers through soft red hair, smiled a little to feel it spread out across his skin. All the better, he thought- a celebration deep in the night to match the one that would surely take up the entirety of the day, though they would at least be fully clothed for _that_ occasion.

“You must be favored by Menphina,” G’raha murmured, yawning a little and running his hand down his arm. “You look like the night sky.”

“Do I?” Yhen’a smiled and opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling of the tent again before peering down at G’raha. “Well, aside from the obvious… thank you. I didn’t take you as particularly spiritual, though.”

G’raha tucked himself closer. “I am,” he admitted, “… in my own way. I grew up revering Azeyma, as most of my kind do, but since going to Sharlayan I’ve found small ways to acknowledge the rest of the Twelve, too.” He shifted, slowly drew his hand to rest over Yhen’a’s heart. “… it’s difficult _not_ to believe in Them, seeing you do the things that you do.” There was something supremely sobering about that. Yhen’a let a breath out and looked back up at the ceiling of the tent, then smiled when he felt G’raha’s tail drift over his calf and up his thigh. “Don’t look too much into that. I can hear you worrying over it.”

“I’m not.” Yhen’a snorted faintly and closed his eyes. “… but… now that this is all over, perhaps I can coax you away for a little while. You’ve said you wanted to see more of Eorzea, and now seems an opportune time. I’m not needed for anything else.”

_Yet._

G’raha hummed softly. “I will see more of it,” he said, though nothing else- and Yhen’a felt the hair on the back of his neck raise.

“What are you up to?” he asked suspiciously, shifting enough to dislodge him a bit- enough to make him grumble and tuck himself closer yet.

“Nothing. Laying here, trying to enjoy myself.” G’raha sighed and nipped at his collarbone. “Lay back down.”

“Raha,” Yhen’a said warningly, “that’s not an answer.”

G’raha huffed a little, then drew back and shoved him onto the mattress with strong hands braced on his shoulders, pushed himself up to look at him nose to nose. “Then perhaps you’d prefer this one,” he purred, and the only stars Yhen’a saw after that were those of G’raha’s making.

It wasn’t until later that day that Yhen’a’s paranoia became reality. He was talking with Rammbroes and Cid when a bedraggled researcher ran up to them and told them that G’raha was ordering everyone out of the Tower- and, heart in his throat, Yhen’a sprinted towards it. Something was wrong, something was _wrong,_ he’d known it from the moment G’raha had pushed him down the second time, and damn him for not being truthful-! His boots pounded on the crystal ground beneath him as he ran, practically flying over the rocks that littered the winding path downward, and then they carried him straight up the bridge and to the entrance of the Labyrinth, where G’raha stood waiting… for him? For the rest of them? Yhen’a didn’t know.

“Don’t come any closer, my friends,” G’raha said- and though his voice was quiet, it somehow carried to all of them, bringing them skidding to a halt.

Yhen’a felt himself growing colder and colder as he listened to G’raha speak of what he had planned, and his ears fell to pin flat against his head. He couldn’t, _couldn’t,_ believe what he was hearing. The others seemed to take it well enough in stride, even Wedge, who promised through tears that they’d see him sooner than he seemed to think. All Yhen’a could think was _not now, not now,_ an unending litany that silently begged G’raha to reconsider- even though he knew he couldn’t, _shouldn’t,_ ask for it out loud.

_Not now. Not when I can still feel your warmth, the brush of your tail against my legs._ _Not when we’ve just started…_

Ruby eyes landed on him, and though he knew he should at least say _something,_ Yhen’a’s voice refused to work. G’raha seemed to be holding to his self-control by the thinnest of margins, and seeing that, _knowing_ that anything he said would make this even worse… he pressed his lips together and nodded slightly, even as G’raha’s form blurred in his vision.

It was that easy. Just watch him go, say nothing, keep his silence until long after when he could scream into the empty night sky and pray that nobody could hear his cries. One final glance, one final smile.

So be it, then- for the future he wanted. For that, Yhen’a vowed as the doors swung shut with a finality that tore him to pieces, he would do _anything._

\--- 

_A future which never came to pass. Agony replaced joy, despondence replaced hope, carnal instinct replaced law… laughter and light replaced by unending darkness._

_How long has it been, he thinks, looking out across the Crystarium from beneath his cowl- truly, how long? More than a century, but how much more? How much time had been lost to his feverish mania, to his unwavering and unbending need? Even now he can hear the sound of Yhen’a’s harp and the laughter and applause of those watching him at the Wandering Stairs, as he peers down from the Ocular and thinks back._

_It doesn’t matter, in the end. Yhen’a knows who he is, he isn’t foolish enough to believe otherwise- even though they’d known one another such a short time compared to the man’s other adventures since then, the way the Keeper had touched him had been unmistakable. Had he known, he wonders, that the man beneath his hands loved him so fiercely? Had he known himself to be his inspiration, his guiding star?_

_Had he known that the years wouldn’t, couldn’t, dull the way he felt?_

_Ah, but how selfish he’d been… he’d not been able to say goodbye without knowing what it felt like to be in his arms- and he fears that had made it far worse. When he’d woken he still smelled Yhen’a’s hair… lavender, sage, something darker that he couldn’t identify- and he’d still had love marks on his skin. Luckily they were all hidden by his clothing- at least, mostly. Time had utterly stopped for him, for the Tower, until it woke once more… and thus prompted from his endless dreaming, G’raha had stepped out into a waking nightmare- and into the unending well and strength of his desire to change things._

_Two shards, countless millions of lives… and one which truly mattered to him._

_Slowly, a crystalline hand lifts and touches the portal in front of him. His lips curve into a smile as he watches Yhen’a charming the crowd- the years had changed him, marked him, but to his eyes he is as beautiful as ever._

_So long as he lives… everything else, everything, is worth it._


End file.
